5 Things Tim Will Never Go Under Cover As Again
by greysnyper
Summary: It's not that he hates the job. He's just too good at it.


♠ Five things that Tim will never go under cover as again--for myself.

1.

Hiding behind the bus Tim takes several long deep breaths. The snide voice in his head points out smugly that he's not really hiding, since he now knows which school this is. You don't just hide from a Super.

Oh God, oh God, oh God!

The thought is so loud he wonders if Conner will hear.

No wonder his head had thrashed and dug deeper in his conscious for why "Smallville" sounded so damn familiar. How the bloody hell had he forgotten?!

Never again. Never ever _ever_ again! When Dick asks Tim to help him out, Tim is going to take his bo-staff and...and...

_"Hey Timmy, there's a big favour I need to ask you. Since you and Steph aren't a thing anymore, and that Dara chick has moved on your best friend, do you think you could get close to a girl? She's your age and the daughter of someone affiliated with Blockbuster."_

Could Tim get close? Definitely.

When she asks him to help out the 3rd District Bludhaven High School cheerleading squad, it's only just a deeper cover. Obviously he'd agree, grinning like he'd always hoped she'd ask.

Upon meeting all the people as one of two boys on the squad, would he be savvy for games and being part of the gang? Sometimes, Tim wants to be normal.

Being normal meant being dared to wear women's underware, though it had gotten him attention.

A _lot_ of it.

Smallville. He remembers why it rang a bell. He no longer cares if Bludhaven placed first or that Lisa's promised to kiss him tonight. Conner's laugh had been _distinct_, in the midst of the performance.

Lisa rounds one corner of the bus, her face flushed. "Alvin, geez. You took off so fast! Are you okay?"

Not far behind, someone else comes into view.

"I'm going to be sick," Alvin lies, red to his ears.

At least it makes Lisa offer to carry him along, promising to tend to him and his sudden stage fright. Chicks dig helpless males, Tim tells himself, trying so hard to ignore everything else.

He can die of it later.

2.

He decides that he will never work in fast food again.

It started out honest enough, with playing stupid as the trainer with the pock-marked face tried his best to explain the way things worked in the store. Tim only had to sometimes spill grease on the floor or drop burgers to look like he belonged, all the while noting the three men in the suits who came every morning at exactly ten, ordered the same thing consistently, and sat discussing business.

A bug under the table assured Tim that Oracle would hear them. He only needed to be present every day at ten in case someone beat the men to their table. Then, Tim would go out into the lobby under the guise of removing dirty trays or refilling coffee. Slip a new bug in place and depart.

The problem is that after awhile, he develops a twitch. There are so many ways to run the store, and all of the ones (he's up to thirty-six) Tim thinks of will be a billion times more efficient.

He can't help but implement them.

Within a month, the store is running better than it has ever been run. The sales are through the roof, the employees actually show up for their shifts now and customers have never been happier. The big guys who are the boss of Tim's boss' boss show up, and soon, he's offered a huge sum as a promotion.

Tim just needs to sell his soul to the company, put on a suit and move to Metropolis so that he may implement his skills in more stores.

He humbly refuses.

They raise the price.

Tim's seen Bruce's batarang account with similar figures. He calls Oracle immediately and asks her to have Batgirl reign in the scum he's been spying upon. He asks Bruce to destroy his Tim Lang identity. He mysteriously quits, forgoing the two weeks resignation.

The problem is not that he hated the job, but that he was tempted by what he could have accomplished, just by telling people what to do.

3.

Two minutes after putting on his costume, Robin knows that something is up.

"What's the word?" he asks, perched on the hood of Batman's car and waiting for the Dark Knight to kick him off.

"Have you ever heard of Todd Star?"

It's hard not to snort. Didn't Bruce know that _everyone_ had heard of Todd Star?! After the blockbuster pirate release from last summer, there wasn't a director in Hollywood without the actor's number on their speed-dial.

"No," Tim answers. "I live in a cave with my fingers plugged in my ears lest you say something human for once."

Batman is unfazed. "I suspect that he's somehow found out the identities of some members of the Justice League. He's also looking for a personal aid."

"Oh God," Robin drops his jaw. "Seriously, I get to?!"

Superboy and Kid Flash are just going to die when they find out.

-

Mr. Star is charismatic on and off the set. Tim follows him around carrying the man's backpack. He parks the navy blue convertible for the actor and has religiously learned what goes into the coffee and at what time Todd shall want it. In fact, Tim is the best aide ever!

He's also learned that the man has a huge obsession with the world belonging to capes.

"They're writing a Superman movie, and it's only going to be a few days now until they call me. I can _feel_ it. Can you feel it Conner?"

Tim chews his lip, pretending to think on it. Superboy had bought Tim the entire Enya collection to have the honour of being Tim's undercover name. Todd also adores when Tim plays the tracks while they drive.

"If you hold out because you want to be sure that the real Man of Steel is alright with the movie being made, I bet that would be great PR," he shrugs. The California air is whipping through his hair as Todd drives them out to lunch.

"That is such a great idea!" cheers the actor. "My God, Kon. Seriously. This would also enable me to meet him. Do you know I've been a fan of that guy since I was a kid?"

Tim wonders if he can arrange such a meeting, though Todd hasn't yet divulged into more important clues for Tim's mission.

A week after Superman and Todd Star shook hands for the media and the paparazzi, Tim wakes up in his hotel with the phone ringing.

"Wha?" he asks, bleary from a night of parties with the actor, and then vigilanting as Robin.

"I totally have something to show you!" exclaims Todd's voice. "Get up and meet me at the dressing room."

The excitement in the man's voice is unlike anything Tim had heard so far. He knows that by now, he's got the actor's trust. Correspondence with Bruce hadn't yielded much that the Dark Knight didn't already know. Tim's likely to get another dozen CDs when he hints to Superboy about what kind of merchandise the sexiest man in Hollywood owns--and whose face is all over it.

Tim's dressed and nursing a cup of java when he knocks on the star's door. It's close to seven in the morning and the rest of the hotel sleeps.

The door swings open.

Tim is too much in shock for the first few seconds, but then his hands register that he is startled and the coffee spills, dancing across the carpet and then soaking into his jeans.

"I'll take that as a good thing," slurs Todd Star, posing in the doorway in a Nightwing suit. "You told me on day one that Nightwing was your favourite."

The man's hair is damp, clinging to his face with the day-old stubble. The rugged grin has traces of Roy Harper in it (studied from the original) and the body, it...it fills the suit completely.

Tim's first coherent thought baffles him. Dick should never have competition like this.

"So, do you like?"

The next day he tenders his resignation and calls Bruce at the office, assuring the man that Todd Star doesn't know anything that could disrupt the mission. Or...well...

Tim's never taken the suit off so fast before. He doesn't think that the real Nightwing will ever let him.

Conner is going to buy Tim a fucking car, if he ever learns who's name got screamed out by the world famous Todd Star.

4.

He picks up the phone.

"Oracle's technical service. Can I help you?"

She had wanted to make a bit of extra money, on her own. Tim supposes that she had a change of heart, robbing the accounts of bad men to supply her own systems.

"Yeah, I've got a computer problem."

She had asked him for some help.

Tim adjusts the headset phone and leans back into the executive chair Oracle had given him. "Sure thing. What sort of problem are we dealing with?"

"Well, my laptop says that the batteries need to be changed."

Tim pauses a second, making it sound like he is thinking. His fingers touch two keys and now Tim can see the man who has called him on the security system that runs in the guy's home. On another screen, Tim watches several men enter a store, wielding guns.

"Your computer, if you bought it from the Oracle service, it comes with a spare battery. You've only used up the first one, correct?"

He reaches over and presses a little red button which connects Tim's office and the offending camera with the Watchtower. He thinks Flash is on duty, so in a moment's time...

"Yeah, this is the first time it ran out."

...the gunmen are suddenly tied up. There's a hand smothering the camera, a wink that could have been imagined, and then nothing out of the ordinary. Problem solved.

"Problem solved, then. Just switch the battery and you'll be good to go."

Another day saved by Timothy Drake.

"Well, see, that's the thing."

"You lost the battery," Tim finishes, tempted to play some solitaire. Then, his eyes note the spare battery sitting next to the man and he frowns.

"Well...maybe."

The hell you did, Tim thinks. "It's a square shape, about the size of a square of butter. Black. Are you sure it's not right in front of you?"

"It...well, could be. I just don't know what I'm to do here."

"But you have the battery?"

"..."

Tim gnaws on his lip, glancing at the time. "I mean, these things tend to be apparent. It could easily be next to your elbow. Say, like, your right elbow."

"Pardon?"

"You know, or on the floor. Or next to your right elbow."

"Oh, right. Well, um, how did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Where it was?"

"Where was it?" Tim asks, rubbing at his eyes.

"Uh, never mind," the man says, picking up the item. "How do I put it in my laptop?"

"Turn over the laptop and there's your old battery. Just unscrew the old one and screw in the new one. Turn on your computer, you'll be good to go."

He sees the man pick up the battery, staring at it. "How do I unscrew it?"

Tim counts to five. "A screw driver. You know, something the right size. I think you can even get a paperclip to do it."

There's a box of paperclips next to the man's phone. The figure in the camera is motionless. A moment passes. "I can't do it."

Tim tries to remember Oracle giving him the 411 on customer service. "Did you try it?"

"Yeah. Nothing happened."

He wants to scream at the figure. The man hasn't moved, beyond holding up the battery. The laptop sits ignored.

"Try again," Tim directs, staring hard at the man and wondering if he can make things burst into flames. Hurrah, you've become a meta!

"Nope. What do I do now?" questions the man.

Check yourself into Arkham, seethes Tim. "Did you attempt to unscrew the screw with your nails? Bet that would work."

"I don't know," muses the figure. "Is there some way you can send someone down to look at this?"

Tim wonders if he's ever been more frustrated on his night job. Even running into Two Face can't be this bad. "How is your office phone connection?"

"Pardon?"

"You're breaking up on me."

"Am I?" the man asks, leaning towards the phone and starting to speak louder. "I WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU COULD SEND SOMEONE DOWN TO--"

Tim hangs up, cancelling the call. He takes a huge breath.

On the monitor, the man holds the phone and apparently tries yelling into it again. Then, he hangs up. The man picks up the phone.

"Oh God," whispers Tim, quickly letting his fingers fly over the keyboard. He cuts out the transfer, commanding the computer to relay all incoming calls from that phone number to Wayne Enterprises. In his panic, it's the only place he can think of.

Poor poor secretary, he thinks.

Oracle had only wanted to make a bit of extra money, but Tim decides that if she's going to have a question of morals, she can do it without him. This is the seventh time this morning that Tim's spoken with idiots.

5.

It's not that Tim is afraid of the sex. So far, he's been able to make the men talk before they do nasty things to his virtue and Tim's gotten the word from seven of Gotham's finest dirtbags through just a pretty face and a few well-aimed punches.

Nobody's yet gotten to Tim, and so he continues to find new corners to lurk in. Scouts out new targets who are into "that sort of thing" and pretends to understand what Black Canary sees in the fishnets and the costume bunching up into his ass.

It's not that Tim's afraid of looking like he works the streets like a pro, because nobody will recognize him and good intelligence is good intelligence.

That is, until the day he runs into someone who will identify him and who isn't going to play nice.

The moment Tim sees the eye-patch, he knows he's screwed.

--


End file.
